AWD #320: Almost Too Perfect
Almost Too Perfect
Summary: A day after the incident on Aerilon, Deidre checks on Phaeton's injured shoulder in the recovery ward of the BSG Orion
Date: 11/05/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: AWD #319: Round-Up on Aerilon
Phaeton Deidre 
Recovery Ward - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
About half the size of the Medical Center, the Recovery Ward has fewer beds to allow space for those who are going through recovery. Rather than the drab gray of most of the center, the walls in here have been done in a neutral creme color. The beds are a little thicker and the blankets are actually present. There are a few clocks and the only other decoration are a couple of flatscreens that show muted movies from the ship's library. A couple stacks of old magazines are available near the door for nurses to pass around, too.
AWD 320

Fresh back from the rescue of a couple of special forces troops from Aerilon, the wounded were rushed in first. Specifically, a Nine model skin job that is immediately taken into surgery. Other, more wounded troops arrived, and finally those that were lightly wounded. Sgt Phaeton Kilgannon fit into the final of these categories. Treated for a single light bullet wound to the chest, he was held overnight for observation.

The following morning, after being held over for observation, Phaeton is relaxing on one of the beds, waiting for the paperwork to be completed so that he can exit and get back to duty. In his lap and idly flipping through it is a sports magazine, previewing the Pyramid league for 2005 - something that never happened. But it’s also the swimwear issue, and those require further study from the engineer. Which is where he is now, intently studying a sports model from Virgon, the lithe frame covered in a barely there swimsuit.

"Seeing anything you like?", comes the dry inquiry from the medical officer on duty who has suddenly appeared beside the bed, in an angle one could suspect to be the perfect one to sneak up on people, from behind, keeping out of his primary line of vision. It also offers the curious pair of grey eyes a good look into the magazine, and especially at the Virgon model Phaeton admires currently. "I'm not sure we'll have much opportunities for a beach holiday anytime soon," O'Bannon comments, lifting a brow. Her gaze brushes the article about the pyramid season on the other page and she sighs, waiting until Phaeton graces her with his attention.

"Good morning, Sergeant.", Deidre greets then with a faintly officious smile. "I need to check on your bullet wound, before we can let you walk out of here." They are acquainted, both having served on the Orion for almost two years now. So far, occasional triad games and a number of drinks shared have established more of a friendly camaraderie than an actual interest between them. At least on Deidre's part. Even so, there is a soft sigh as she watches him undo his shirt, a hint of concern there. "You should know better than get shot like this." Words of faint reproach, offered with a wry kind of humour.

“Careful, may start to think you actually give a damn about me, Deedee.” Phaeton teases as he holds up the swimsuited model next to her and considers. “Yeah, but I doubt we could find this design for you anywhere.” he responds as he closes the magazine to set it aside for the moment. “Alright, alright.”

Going to remove his shirt, he smirks. “Wanted to see me like this, should have just asked sooner.” There’s a playful banter between the two, but it seems like neither of them have made the investment or thought to turn it into anything more, with their duties keeping them apart most of the time. The engineer slips off the shirt and shakes his head. “Could have gone a lot worse, damn NCO in charge froze and turned it into a straight up firefight instead of an extraction.”

One corner of her lips lifts in a smirk. "Me? Care about you? Please, Phae, what are you thinking…?" Bantering right back, before her grey eyes drop to the swimsuit model. "Actually, it's more what's in that swimsuit than the swimsuit itself, right? It gives you funny thoughts. But…" She gives him a smile. "I can't really blame you, Phae. Getting shot up real nice whets the appetite, right?" Giving him more of a buddy look there, before she shoots a glance over to where Lleufer is nicely asleep and all drugged up, so she is not really worried they'll disturb him much. Grey eyes cut back to Phaeton, and she leans back a little giving him a pointed look-over as he really seems to beg for it. "Oh gosh, yes. Totally." Virgon accent cutting through here, both in the slightly aristocratic tinge of her tone, as well as in the slight mockery displayed. "I never dared to ask!" She cracks a laugh then and shakes her head. "Honestly, Phae, you have no idea how many naked torsos I've seen in my life." Among other things. "So… no, I promise I won't faint at the mere sight of it." Even so, her smile fades a little as she leans closer, to inspect the bandage, peeking assessingly beneath it as she pulls it a little away from him. "Damned tin cans," she comments. "Wanna talk about it?"

Phaeton is easy to get to give up. Deidre gets him to back off fairly enough, and he shrugs as she changes the subject. "Supposed to be picking up a couple of special forces from Aerilon. Simple grab and go." he offers, looking back down and pointedly avoiding her grey eyes. She's unattainable, hopelessly so, at least to him. He doesn't have the class or clout to be wanted by the types of her class.

"Could smell home, Deedee." he says quietly. "I know I wasn't close. But the smell in the air, the scents, even with the stench of cordite and oil.. it felt right." he closes his eyes. "But instead of turning it into a pick up, the NCO in charge, some MP named Dreyer, kept having us help fire at the canners. Finally, the skinnie in our ranks, Knox, broke command and ordered a withdraw. I had to call my own side to a cover fire to cover the retreat.. we did all this. For what? Special forces? He's a good one to have - but we also got the skinnie his skinnie viper jock of a girlfriend. You know, the one that can't help but to keep dying over and over again?"

It is not like, Dei is an upper class chick stranded on the Orion. Born to a lower class family on Virgon she was just lucky to get her chance. And even now, she's made it merely to PO3. But indeed, Virgonites tend to speak with that slightly snobby tone now and then, they just can't help it. The wry humor dims from O'Bannon's expression when Phaeton begins to speak of the mission that earned him the bullet wound. While her head tilts this way and that way, her eyes narrowing slightly as she inspects with the bandage still on, she finally shrugs, announcing, "I'd better take this off and make you a new one." Taking a pair of medical scissors to work through the bandage in a way that will not cause any discomfort to him, Deidre gives Phae a glance, her lips twitching into a smile when he speaks of how it felt to have firm ground beneath his feet. She removes the bandage and tosses it into the dustbin, before she takes a fresh roll out of a cabinet. Waiting for now to put it on, as she inspects the wound with the assessing gaze of a medical officer.

Deidre lifts her gaze, shooting Phaeton a glance. "One of those new… things.", she inquires, in lack of a better word. "You got her on board, for an autopsy? Or… is that thing still 'alive'?" If one could say such a thing about that new skin job variant.

"Alive. They saved her on the way back. I know we have orders to respect the skinnies, and I trust Knox, he's saved our bacon more than once.. but that one. Ceres, I think she calls herself. She dies when it's frakkin' convenient for her. On the way to trial? Her raptor blows up. Comes back. She comes and goes as she pleases - wonder what else she's telling the tin cans when she 'downloads'. One of them even married some mook down in Engineering once. That's a hell of a way to get out of that, right?" Phaeton says with a shake of his head. The wound's not that bad. He's okay to go, but the change is good.

He turns his attention back to her. There's a little apology in his eyes. He knows that her own home is nothing more than radioactive debris, Virgon caught almost all of the Centurion wrath as he considers her for the moment, falling quiet. "So when we gonna play cards again, Deedee?"

"Looks good," Deidre comments on his injury after a moment. "I'll get you some of that chamomile salve though." The roll of white bandage she deposits on the table, as she pulls a drawer out and after a brief glance gets some of that antiseptic salve out.

"Oh." Her brows jump upwards when Phaeton elaborates on the name of the skinny. "Her." She frowns. "Okay. Ceres. You know she… I mean who she's impersonating is from Virgon as well. Was. From Virgon." A shadow falls momentarily over her features, but she casts it off, with a shake of her head. "I always had an odd feeling about that one…" Which may or may not be true. She applies some of the salve to the wound, keeping the touch of her fingers there gentle enough. Her gaze lifts to Phaeton’s face when she hears his question. "Anytime, Phae. That. Or just get plain drunk, if we can dig up some booze somewhere." Again there is that faint wry grin she gives him. "There. It should be fine now. Let me wrap it in a fresh bandage. And then you should come to get it checked… in a couple of days. A week. Earlier of course, if your shoulder should feel odd, or aching overly much."

"You know I have my hooch, if you feel up to it." Phaeton says with a little grin. "Last time I brought it up though, I ended up giving a whole company extra PT for a week. Maybe if it's just you and I, we should drink someplace else so we don't get in trouble." As he listens to the instructions, he nods his head. "Yeah. I know. She even tries to look like one of you. But she ain't. I know that." he glances at Deidre. "Accent ain't quite right." he teases with a little wink.

<FS3> Phaeton rolls Brewing: Good Success.

"Oh. Sure.", Deidre's half-smile remains in place, "But can you make sure it doesn't give me a headache on the next day?" She chuckles, wrapping the bandage about the shoulder with the efficiency of some years of practice, and fixating it. "Well… yeah… sure. Why not?", she drawls then to his suggestion, as she hands him his shirt. "Someplace else, meaning…?" Strangely enough, the idea of drinking alone with him does not seem to put Deidre off. Buddies, as they are. "I'm sure you may have an idea or two?" As for Ceres's accent, she just snorts. "Right. It ain't. Well… in a way it’s almost too accurate. They are just so horribly perfect, these skinnies."

"Dunno. Maybe planetside or something." Phaeton doesn't seem to have any designs for anything untowards with the EMT. They've drank together plenty of times and never got in trouble. "Or if you'd rather drink up here, we can do that. I have a few mason jars in my quarters I keep hidden away." he shrugs his shoulders and then grins at her. "Well, she may think she's perfect, but she ain't a Virgon I know." he says as he works to pull back on his shirt. "Thanks for giving me a look over, Deidre. I appreciate it." he says with a nod. "Anything starts feeling funny, I'll let you know."

"My shift will end in four hours," Deidre O'Bannon informs Phaeton as she watches him put his shirt back on. "Planetside… we could do some other day perhaps. But today… I'd just be happy to have a few drinks and talk with a good friend, like you. Just let me know when you are free." She gives him a pat to the good shoulder. "See you later, then."

"See you when you get off duty, then Deedee." Phaeton says and gives her a grin. So friendzoned. He laughs a little at the mental joke as he gathers the magazine and moves to leave the sick bay and return to his duties.

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